Never the same
by tennchick15
Summary: When two magickly inclined teenagers are whisked away to Never Neverland, does Peter finaly find love in the blonde Paige? What about her big brother Cole? What's going on with him and Tigerlily? find out here. Story much better than the summary.
1. Prologue

Hello. My name is Paige Wardell. A few months ago, my brother, Cole, and I were at a party like the normal 16 and 17 year olds that we were. We left early for some reason or another, I don't remember. When we got home, though, the lights were on, and the front door was slightly ajar. My brother went in first, holding one hand out behind him, signaling me to wait. After a few minutes, he hadn't come back to get me, so I went in.

What I found was a shocking and terrifying sight indeed. The room was full of smoke, as if dinner had been started, but long forgotten. Then it all hit me at once. Cole was kneeling on the floor, silent tears running down his face. Next to him, in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor, was our mother's body. She was lying in front of the refrigerator, a ornately jeweled dagger buried to the hilt in the door. I tried to pull it out, but it barely budged.

"What are you doing?!" Cole shouted so suddenly that I jumped, and nearly slipped on the growing pool of blood at our feet.

"The killer might still be in the house," I whispered. I pulled the knife harder, but it moved even less. "It's no use, we need our swords." But our swords were upstairs, well out of reach if the fiend who killed our beloved mother had still been in our home.

Cole stood and yanked the dagger out in one fluid motion, the knife slipping from the door as if the metal had been warm butter. "I'd like to see that bastard try to get near us," he had said. I had never been in more awe of my brother than at that moment.

"Wait, if mom's here, where's dad?" I asked, my despair doubling. We found our father's body in his workshop in the backyard. The killer was gone, and the police were called. The only thing the murderer left behind was the dagger. Not even a fingerprint was found.

With our mother and step-father dead, we had to live with our biological father, Loney. Loney was an abusive drunk, and lived in the middle of nowhere, so there was no escape.

Our only haven was sparring with our katanas. Cole and I were both practiced swordsmen, even though he was significantly better than I. We were also decent with battle knifes, daggers, and I was an artist with a bow. Our weapons were some of the very few things we still had from our old life, or more valuable possessions having been pawned by Loney for booze money.

Cole always had the jeweled dagger on his person. He even took it to school with him, and he got in serious trouble many times before he learned to hide it better. He was determined to kill the man who had murdered our parents with their own blade.

The days crept by, and Cole and I were learning to shape our routines and schedules around Loney's drinking. The trailer he lived in was five miles from the public high school, so we woke with the sun. It was just as well, because then Loney was fast asleep with a brewing hangover. When we got back, he was already at the local pub.

Cole was the perfect older brother in this situation. He always defended me, and protected me from Loney when we couldn't avoid him. He suffered quite a few punches for my sake.

I was 16, tall and had long, wavy, blonde hair that always looked like I had been at the beach all day. Cole was also tall, maybe an inch or two taller than me. He had shaggy dark brown hair, and he was one year my senior. And there was one other thing about us that might be of importance. We were witches. Well, actually we were Wiccan, but many people do not recognize the later term. We were very well practiced at making our will become reality. We were also very good at telepathy and telekinesis.

All of this was cool, and came in handy, but it was never really important or a vital as it was about to become.


	2. Chapter 1

The day started out like any other. We woke up at the crack of dawn to be ready for school, and out the door by the time Loney woke from his drunken stupor. We were mostly quiet on our five mile walk to the local high school; our cars were sold by Loney for even more booze money. School was the same as always, it was just another day as the new kids. And just like every other day, Loney was gone when we got back to the trailer. But everything changed when Loney came back from the bar early.

Loney wasn't a happy drunk. Actually, he was far from it. He was downright violent and abusive. And this time, he wasn't content with a few cheap shots at Cole.

When we finally escaped to our shared bedroom, we lock the dead-bolt we spent our small collective funds on. We were both battered, bruised, and black and blue all over. And as the sun began to set, we fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

I woke with a start, and then I immediately regretted it, as my whole entire body felt as if i had been run over by a semi-truck. I laid there until the pain subsided slightly, and it was then that i realized that what had woke me up was the sound of someone crying. I looked up, and a boy about the age of 17 was sitting on the floor at the end of my bed.

"Boy, why are you crying?" I asked as I sat up in bed, wearing a tank top and a pair of baggy flannel pajama pants. He didn't even jump. He just looked up at me, then back at his right foot, which was bleeding profusely. "Oh, no," I groaned as I realized that I had left one of my daggers on the floor at the foot of my bed.

I crawled out of bed, and came to sit next to him on the floor. "What is your name?" I questioned as I pulled the things I would need for a healing out from under my bed: A red candle, a blue candle, a green candle, and a yellow candle, a small dish, a bottle of spring water, and a small container of salt.

"Peter. Peter Pan," he had said through clenched teeth. He looked as if he would be as tall as Cole if he were standing, Peter ha shaggy, sandy brown hair, sun-lightened to blonde in streaks. He was dressed in clothes made of leaves, and when i spotted these details, I felt a flicker of recognition.

I knew this boy. Not personally, of course, but i knew of him. He was the star of many bedtime stories from our childhood, and the main character in quite a few movies and books. He was the child that never grew up. Yet, here he was, not the 12-year-old boy he once was, but a 17-year-old man.

I stood, and walked over to my brother's bed. "Cole, wake up. I need your help," I hissed. I was good at healing, but the cut was deep, too deep to be confident in my abilities.

"Five more minutes, Paige," Cole mumbled. I sighed, and looked behind me at Peter. I held up a single finger, indicating that this would only take a moment. With an evil smirk, I created a tiny fireball about the size of a dime, and shot it at Cole's rear end. I hit my target squarely, and he leaped out of bed, yelping like a wounded puppy. "What the Hell, Paige?!" Cole whispered.

I simply gestured toward Peter and said, "I need some help." We worked our Magick on Peter's foot, and when we finished, all that was left was a shiny white scar.

"Now, I'm going back to bed. Goodnight, Demon Sister," Cole yawned as he stood. When he turned, though, there was a smoking hole in the seat of his pants. He was almost to his bed when he heard Peter and I laughing. He spun around and saw me pointing at him.

"Pants… You… Smoke… Fire… Hole…" I managed as I laughed uncontrollably. After Cole had safely put on some non-charred pants, we finally introduced ourselves. "I'm Paige, and the idiot with the hole in his pants is my brother, Cole.

"I'm Peter Pan, like I said before," he said, sounding slightly impatient.

"If your Peter Pan, why don't you look twelve?" I asked, honestly curious. A look flashed across his face.

"I don't know really, ever since… Wendy… left, I've been noticing that the tree house was getting a bit small," he said. At last, I placed the look I had seen flash across his features. Pain, sorrow, anger, and abandonment.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned it," I apologized. All of a sudden, my hand dashed out and snatched something off of the floor. Neither Peter nor Cole noticed. When I opened my hand, a tiny faerie was standing in front of my face.

It wasn't Tinkerbell; I would have recognized her immediately. It was a faerie I had never seen before. She was almost as tall as a new pencil, and she had long chestnut hair flowing about her. She was garbed in clothing from flowers and leaves, yet she looked as if she had just walked out of a miniature version of Hollister. As I was finishing my observations, she started chattering.

She was obviously talking to me, but all I heard were the sounds of hundreds of tiny frantic bells. Then she said one word that I would have recognized in any language. "Oops!" She then leaned forward and touched the end of my nose with one small, dainty finger. A shower of gold dust emanated from the point where her finger still made contact with my face.

"Check, 1, 2. Testing, testing. Is this thing on?" She said in her high, trilling soprano. I nodded, slightly bewildered at what had just taken place. I glanced toward the boys, and, of course, they were still completely oblivious. My attention was drawn back to the tiny figure standing on my palm.

"My name is Joslyn, what's yours?" She asked. She was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, looking overly eager for something. The boys finally noticed that I was no longer part of their conversation, and looked over to see what was going on.

"Paige. My name's Paige."

"Well, Paige, I have some good news," Joslyn said, suddenly sobering. "The Faerie Council assigned me to be your faerie, and ya'll better start packing. We leave tomorrow at dusk."


	3. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_ I am so so so so so so so sorry that this took so long to get up here. I wrote the first two paragraphs and lost interest. Then i went to college, and that took over all of my time. I ended up giving over this story to my best friend, Rachel, and she wrote two chapters today alone! So from now on, all chapters will be written by her, edited by me. Thanks!**

Disclaimer: I OWN PETER PAN! MINE! *Gets kicked in the head by Tink* Fine, fine, no i don't. Peter Pan is owned by J.M. Barrie, and some children's hospital in England...

"Say WHAT?" Cole and I shouted in unison.

"Leave for where?" I asked, trying to make sense of what this tiny, winged person was saying. Leaving? For where? Neverland? Does Neverland even exist? Do Faeries even exist?

"To Neverland, of course." The miniscule pixie smiled, delighting in our confusion.

"Oh, my Gods, I've gone insane! My baby sister is holding a faerie who is telling us we're going to Neverland. What's next? Charlie the Unicorn?" Cole said, reduced to hysterics.

"Cole, you know Charlie went to Candy Mountain, not Neverland. Duh," I said, enjoying my usually cool and collected brother melting into a five-year-old. "And I'm not a baby!"

It was funny to see, and I couldn't help my smile. Joslyn didn't help matters any by fluttering over and landing on his nose, shaking her little bum, and bouncing to the top of his head where she proceeded to dance and laugh hysterically.

The fun and laughter came to a halt as soon as the drunken, angry voice of Loney sounded. He then started beating and pounding our door until the hinges and dead-bolt rattled and threatened to come loose. "What the hell is all that noise! I told you brats to be quiet! I'm gunna break your necks. Do you hear me? Open this damn door right now you little bastards!" The door kept on rattling with the sound of his grunts and growls.

I was so scared that I didn't even realize that Cole had stepped between me and the door, or the fact that I was shaking. Apparently I was shaking badly enough that Cole noticed and wrapped me in a protective embrace.

The banging stopped, and Loney screamed, "All right, ya'll wanna play rough, I'll play rough!" Then the sound of his footsteps thundered down the hall.

We started looking for a way out, but I couldn't open the window. Cole was already packing our bags with military precision, making use of every nook and cranny.

Peter was just standing there with a confused look on his face, with his head cocked to one side, as I continued to struggle with the window. In all accounts I was freaking the hell out, and him just standing there was pissing me off. "Quit standing there and help me damn it!" I hissed.

He jumped and shook his head, then strutted over to the window. He gently pushed me out of the way. Using very little effort, he flicked his wrist and the window flew open with a crack. At about that time we could hear the sound of a shotgun being cocked. Cole threw the bags with our clothes and money ( what little we could hide from Loney) out the window, and our precious weapons our parents gave and trained us with in a special bag that suck out over one shoulder and the opposite hip, just slightly. We had two of these bags; mine purple, his black. Our names and the names of our swords embroidered on them.

Since he was wearing his, I knew mine was inside it with my sword, _Aqua_, right beside his, _Flair_. They were gorgeous weapons, single edged, with wrapped and jeweled hilts, and colored blades. _Aqua_ was, of course, had what looked to be ocean blue waves rolling down the edge of the blade. A teardrop shaped sapphire, the tip facing the cross-guard, was the end of the hilt. The blunted side of the blade was shining silver. The cords on the hilt matched the blades coloring.

Cole's blade was identical to mine in shape, yet his had scarlet flames lighting the edged part of the blade from cross-guard to tip. A blood red, diamond shaped garnet with living flames in its heart decorated the end of the hilt. The blunt side of the steel blade was black as onyx. Like mine, the grip on the hilt was wrapped with cords that matched the colors displayed on the blade.

Our parents never would tell us how or where the blades were made, but they did say that they would never dull, break, or lose their natural color, for they were forged with magick. And believe me, we have tested these fun little facts many times.

After we jumped through the window, we ran into the surrounding woods. The shotgun went off with a BANG, blowing the dead-bold clear out of the window, hitting Peter smack in the middle of his butt. (_Serves him right for taking so damn long to help me with the window!_) Thank the gods we made it into the woods and out of sight before Loney made it to the window to see our great escape.


	4. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_ also written by Rachel. Yes, it's short, ran out of time to type, and she wouldn't give me the journal that has the story in it...**

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

"Why were we running?" asked Peter when we finally stopped.

"When Loney gets a shotgun, you run. Abusive father plus firearms equals RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!" I panted.

"What's abusive?" Peter questioned. I sighed. This boy was going to be the death of me. I explained what 'abusive' means. As I finish elaborating, a look of innocent disgust crossed Peters face.

After a few moments of awkward silence, I stuck my hands in the air and yelled, "WE ARE FINALLY FREE OF LONEY!"

"We are, aren't we?" Cole said with a grin. The next thing I know, our feet were lifting off the ground, Peter and Joslyn laughing at our shocked expressions. I knew now that Neverland would be the only safe place for us, and apparently so did Cole, for neither of us argued. We just accepted the fact that we were flying and followed Peter and Joslyn to the second star to the right, and straight on 'till morning. It was beautiful, yet it was an odd feeling, flying. It was slightly disorienting not having the earth beneath my feet. There is no way to possibly describe it. All we could do was smile the whole way, ooo-ing and ahh-ing as Peter told us about the mermaids (_MERMAIDS! Eeep!_ ), more faeries, pirates (_of course…_) and , to Cole's delight, a tribe of Indians.

Cole perked up at talk of Indians, which made me happy. Since the death of our parents, not much made him smile, or even sparked his interest. So, in light of this, I asked, "Will you introduce us to the tribe, Peter?" I asked in a silky sweet tone, shocking myself, and gaining me a 'look' from Cole.

"I guess I could," he mused, "It's been a while since I've visited Tiger Lily and her family."

"Tiger Lily?" I asked. "Like the real Tiger Lily? Like the Tiger Lily that liked you when Wendy came?"

"Yes, that Tiger Lily," he sighed. "She has a husband and children now. They, the children I mean, are our age. Or they would be. The oldest was a boy, White Fox, was killed in a battle with the pirates. They're a lot more vicious then they used to be. The youngest children were born sick. One died from it, the other lived, but still gets tired easy, she never played much. Tiger Lily called her Moon Flower because she was so delicate. Her and her only living sister are oddly pale, like we are, but they have the normal dark hair."

He thought for a moment, and said, "The sister is older, but no one sees her much. I'm not sure which will take over the tribe for Tiger Lily and her late husband."

Cole started to ask something, then stopped as we finally saw Neverland.


End file.
